


Over the Wall and Far Away

by misura



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jaime Lannister Joins the Night's Watch, M/M, Ned Stark Joins the Night's Watch, The Night's Watch (ASoIaF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 04:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19715992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: "I should have let them execute you," Stark said, and then he moved past Jaime, on towards his new home, which happened to be Jaime's home, too, more or less.Right,Jaime thought.So this is going to be fun.(Ned and Jaime end up in the Night's Watch!AU)





	Over the Wall and Far Away

It was cold, the day Ned Stark arrived at the Wall, but to Jaime, it almost felt like summer.

He expected Stark to hand over the message recalling him to King's Landing right away, even if he'd maybe look a bit sour about it, a bit like a man forced to eat his own words. Jaime had a little speech all prepared, about how it was funny, wasn't it, the way life worked out sometimes.

Nothing _too_ insulting or smug, but then, Ned Stark was the reason Jaime'd been sent here in the first place, so he had every right to feel at least a little bit smug.

Instead, Stark gave him this flat look, like he didn't even remember.

Jaime still put on a smile. It would be good practice, he told himself. When he got back to court again, back to Cersei, there were a lot of things he'd need to relearn.

"I believe there may be something you need to tell me," he said, prodding and not giving a damn if he sounded eager. Any man would be eager to get away from here, and anyway, Jaime had been judged plenty already. What was a bit of impatience compared to killing a king he'd sworn to protect?

Stark looked at him. His wife had been allowed to retire to Winterfell, with one of the daughters (Jaime'd forgotten which one) staying behind, to ensure she behaved.

All things considered, the Lannisters had been merciful. Or maybe his father and sister were going soft after all, hard as that was to imagine. More likely they were biding their time, waiting for Jaime to be back with them, and safe.

He wondered how Tyrion was doing, if he and Cersei had figured out yet that the only chance they stood against their father was by teaming up, and maybe not even then.

"I should have let them execute you," Stark said, and then he moved past Jaime, on towards his new home, which happened to be Jaime's home, too, more or less.

_Right,_ Jaime thought. _So this is going to be fun._

Stark had not been a bad fighter, as far as Jaime recalled, but that first week, he walked around like the dead, like something had gone out of him. He fought even worse.

Jaime didn't know what had happened, why he was still here, with Stark banished as well.

He figured beating Stark up a bit, putting him in the dust (well, snow) might make him feel better, but it was like beating a sack of grain. (Jaime couldn't recall the last time he'd enjoyed a good meal, instead of scarfing down whatever was put in front of him because he needed to eat.)

_I'm getting out of here,_ he told himself. _I am._ Cersei would want him back, and Tyrion, and his father as well, and who would be able to stand in their way?

Lannisters always got what they wanted, and they never forgot. Which meant they couldn't have forgotten Jaime, either. Which meant he was going home.

_Any day now._ Stark stared up at him, dead-eyed and without even a glimmer of shame at having the Kingslayer put a blade to his throat.

Jaime imagined pressing the blade down. What was the worst anyone could do to him?

Stark wouldn't mind. He might even be grateful. Better to be dead than to be here, to live like this.

"You know, nobody likes a sore loser," Jaime told him. "But you? You are even worse."

Stark got a bit better as time passed. Jaime got a bit worse. He would have given his left arm for a supply of good wine, or even bad wine, anything to get him proper drunk.

Alas, there seemed to be a shortage of merchants interested in Lannister appendages.

Jaime got letters from Tyrion every now and then, with news and gossip and 'I hope you are well's and tidbits about Stark's family Jaime had no use for - did Tyrion expect him to share? To use them to befriend Stark?

Tyrion might have, in his place. Jaime knew his brother was clever like that, even if it looked like Tyrion wasn't clever enough to actually do something useful like get Jaime back home.

"You are very good with that," Stark told him, one day, after Jaime had beaten him (again).

Jaime felt like someone had punched him in the face, except not, because he would have known what to do if someone had punched him.

"Yes," he said, just when Stark looked like he was about to walk away, expression as bland as always.

Stark nodded once, as if this was all normal.

And then suddenly they were getting attacked by White Walkers, and Jaime got too busy being pissed off to really think about Stark much, because he refused to let a bunch of dead people ruin his life, let alone kill him.

Sure, nobody'd told him they were working on getting him recalled, but they had to be, right? He was Jaime Lannister, for crying out loud. He'd done the right thing, the honorable thing, and he'd be damned if he was going to let it all end in the middle of nowhere.

Also, Stark might smile at his funeral. _'I should have let them execute you,'_ he'd said, as if the decision had been his and his alone, as if Jaime owed him his life. As if the Wall offered any kind of life worth living.

"You know, this is what you are here for," Stark said. They'd somehow drifted together after a fight, tired and dirty and a bit bloodied. "To fight this war."

Jaime wanted to kill him. "You, perhaps," he said. "Me, I am leaving as soon as I get the word."

Stark shook his head, like Jaime was the one being a fool here. "You will stay. You will see this thing through. I have watched you. Who knows, at the end of this, men may start calling you something other than 'Kingslayer'."

_Yes. Like 'idiot',_ Jaime thought. He might leave by himself, he realized. Perhaps the message telling him to return had simply been lost. It happened. Perhaps Cersei and Tyrion and his father all assumed he stayed away on purpose, because he wanted to stay, to fight Stark's stupid war.

He barely made it out of the gate before he got ambushed.

_Lannister luck,_ he thought with the part of his mind that wasn't busy trying to take as many of them with him as he could. _Well. At least it'll be quick._ He hoped Cersei would weep as she heard. He hoped Tyrion wouldn't feel too bad about not having managed to get him out of here.

He hoped his father would make an effort to love Tyrion as his new heir.

He hoped, he realized with a bit of surprise, that Stark would win his stupid war and not die like Jaime was about to: cold and alone and (let's be honest here) feeling like an idiot.

_'I should have let them execute you,'_ Stark had said, and Jaime thought, _Yes_ , because it would have meant he wouldn't have had to go through all of this, all of the small and big annoyances of life at the Wall, before Stark's arrival had made everything worse.

He could have died proud and angry and hating Ned Stark with every fibre of his being.

Instead, _this_.

"Jaime," someone said, and it took Jaime a while to realize who. "Jaime."

It was very cold. He wanted to lie down, preferably under a couple of thick blankets, but someone was holding him up, forcing him to walk through the snow.

_Winter has come,_ Jaime thought. Someone giggled. They sounded more than a little mad, whoever they were.

"That's it. Only a little further. Almost there."

"No," Jaime said, trying to dig in his heels. The snow made it hard. He thought he might have lost his sword somewhere, left it in the corpse of something that had been dead for a long time. "No."

He felt no pain at all, only tired. Light-headed. He realized that he was probably dying, which meant there really was no point in someone bullying him to walk, or drink something, or do anything at all he didn't want to do.

Hadn't he spent enough of his life already doing things other people wanted him to do? Couldn't people just leave him alone and die in peace?

"Jaime," Ned Stark said, and kissed him, warm and alive and like they were the last two living men in the world.

Jaime woke up in bed, buried under a respectable number of rather smelly blankets.

Stark was nowhere in sight. Jaime supposed he didn't mind. That kiss had only happened in his imagination, so there was no reason to be embarrassed or to even think about it at all.

That settled, he went back to sleep.

Stark had gone out on patrol, someone informed him the next time he opened his eyes to check if maybe the world had become a better, more just place while he hadn't been looking.

"Good," Jaime said. His injuries were mild, considering. If he had to, he might have gotten up and put up a good fight, he thought.

Stark had gone out on patrol plenty of times before. There was no reason why he would need Jaime there and anyway, if he got himself into trouble, that wasn't Jaime's problem.

In fact, Stark getting himself killed would suit Jaime fine. Maybe then his family would stop dragging their feet and welcome him back to their loving bossom.

"You should be in bed," Stark said. He had been perfectly safe and in no need of Jaime charging to the rescue whatsoever, which was all sorts of annoying.

"In your bed, you mean?" Jaime asked, before he could remember that he had decided that the kiss had only been a hallucination, brought on by blood-loss and cold.

Stark didn't even look a little bit embarrassed. "Any bed. We need you. Acting like an idiot isn't going to do anyone any good."

"It seems to have worked well enough for you so far," Jaime said.

Stark sighed. It was his noble-suffering sigh, so Jaime prepared himself to ignore whatever Stark said next. "I told you. We were both directed here to fight this war."

"Fighting this war? Is that what you were doing?" Jaime asked. Tyrion would have been smarter about this. He'd have Stark admitting and confessing to all sorts of things and desires.

Cersei would have simply seduced him.

"Patrols are part of fighting a war, yes," Stark said.

Jaime kissed him. It felt like the right move. It was what Cersei would have done, Jaime thought, except that she would have figured out a way to make Stark be the one to make the first move.

Stark put up with it for a bit, just long enough for Jaime to begin to think he'd gone and done something right after all - and about time, too, but then he pulled away.

"You really are an idiot," Stark said.

"You want to make sure I stay in bed, I suggest you come up with a better plan than insulting me. It makes me want to pick a fight with someone, or something." Jaime grinned. He knew that it was only bravado, that in any real fight, he wouldn't last half a minute, but so what?

Stark knew it, too. He looked chagrined, which was new. Jaime thought it was delightful. Getting under Stark's skin ought to keep him from getting bored in between hacking up walking dead men.

"I liked you better before," Stark said.

"Liar," Jaime said.


End file.
